16 - Rearranging The Furniture

     "Just hang it a little further to the left."
     "If you are going to be so goddamn picky about this picture why don't
you do it yourself?" There were days when I wondered if all of this
bullshit was worth it.
     "It's just too heavy for me you know that." She put on her sweet voice
again. I couldn't take the sweet voice, it always made me weak.
     "Besides it's your apartment.  It's ultimately your choice."
     "How much further to the left?" I could feel her smile burning the back
of my head.
     She refused to live with me. In her mind for us to live together would
be pushing the envelope. She wouldn't date me either.  I never
understood how that worked.  She wouldn't have an intimate relationship
with me because we were able to have a conversation.
     She had no problem rearranging the furniture. I really couldn't blame
her. The apartment was looking better.  Furniture arranging together
isn't a commitment, it's more like an idea of what the commitment could
be like.  It's a test of your ability to compromise.  Now buying
furniture together, that's commitment.
     I moved the picture just a hair to the right as I thought about her
current boyfriend.

15 - Short & Sweet

    "My life is far too short to read this tedious bullshit you send,"
she said unsympathetically.  "I don't care if most it is true.  It's too
wordy. You say the same thing time after time.  I'm not saying that it's
bad, but come on!"
    She was beautiful, intelligent, and a writer far beyond my talents.
She was also completely uninterested in me.  That always sent the
machines in my head into overdrive.
    "You wanted my opinion I gave you my opinion."  I always asked for
her opinion when I needed a reality check.  It rarely ever bounced.
Mine usually tapped the clouds twice and then skimmed across the ocean.
    "This is why I love you," I thought out loud, " not in the biblical
sense, but in that let's-get-naked-by
the-fireplace-and-stare-into-each-others-eyes kind of way."  She wasn't
amused.  I like that too.
    "Did I mention that you're an asshole?"  She said with a hint of a
smile.
    "Yeah, about 35 times.  Look just for you I'll keep the next few
entries short and sweet."
    "I'll believe it when I see it."

14 - The Beautiful

     There is no limit to the comprehension of the mind.  Those who do not
believe in it's abilities are their own worst enemies.
    The only way to defeat the beast is to confront it head on.  The
beast expects you to crawl and vomit from fear.  It loves the fact that
you will go hours even years out of your way to avoid a thirty second
conversation that could show you to be a better person, much stronger
than you ever imagined.
    Do you do that?  Do you let fear run some aspect of your life?  What
scares you?  Is it death?  I doubt it.  Death is the most peaceful end,
as far as we know it.  There is no great conflict.  The decisions have
been made and you are not responsible.  This is something that is beyond
your control.  You will not be to blame.
    I think living scares people.  The thought that you are ultimately
responsible for the decisions that you make and the way you live your
life is far more than some can take.  Most people are content to live as
victims; sheep following the herd.  They have the audacity
to wonder why things don't work out as planned, why life never treats
them fairly, why things don't go their way.      Please don't let
yourself be one of these weak links.
    Don't be confused.  It is time consuming to constantly be on top of
the game and we all let ourselves slack.  The way to do it is not to
become the slacker that people compare their failures to.  Example:  My
life might be in the toilet but _____ is doing absolutely nothing, or
______ is a useless human being.  We all know some name that we could
use to fill in the blanks.
    I think truth scares people.  It all comes down to following rules
that govern our conduct as human beings.  You don't have to screw people
to get ahead and you don't have to be a doormat for people to like you.
Be honest with your friends and be true to yourself  and you should be
ok.  WARNING being honest will probably limit the amount of friends you
have but you will have good friends.  Those who don't like you will
still possibly respect you.
    As ominous as it may all seem it is still beautiful.  I see the
darkness through the beauty only because I can see the beauty in the
darkness.  I could tell you the truth but that would be too easy.  Maybe
you'll think of me when I'm gone.  Maybe you'll realize what drove the
machines.  Maybe one day you'll figure out why the rains fall so hard
and why the river runs so deep or maybe you will just go hours even
years out of your way to avoid a thirty second conversation that could
show you to be a better person, much stronger than you ever imagined.

That Beautiful Black Man

13 - Self Help Mode

    Some have asked if I have ever been in love.  The answer is yes of
course.  I actually remember telling a dear woman all of the reasons I
could marry her.  I wish I could tell you all of them but that was just
too long ago.
    Matters of the heart have always been less than a mystery to me.
Talk.  that's all you really have to do.  Don't assume that your
relationship is so perfect that you will just magically know what the
other wants.  I have come to the realization that I am lazy.  I refuse
to play the simple minded game of emotional power.  I want to be very
cut and dry when involved with someone.  I will try to help with the
needs of my significant other but I cannot read minds (not all the
time).  I must be communicated with.  I am as simple as a six year old
sometimes so you might just have to say it more than once.
    Oh yeah, the sex can't suck.  Bad sex is worse than no sex.  If it's
bad let your partner know or it will just get worse.  (Oh God I think
I'm in Self Help Mode ... Somebody shoot me.)
    I have watched couples make the strangest yet most perfect
connections and I have also seen people attempt to polish shit.  At
times I am unsure of what category I fall into.   I do know that I will
not attempt to polish shit.  This could turn into a tirade but that is
something that would take up the next week of The Days and we all know how
long that can be.  My tirades are also much more entertaining in
person.  If you've seen one you know exactly what I mean and if you
haven't seen one you may have heard about it.
    I think about these things because I'm getting old.  I am the old
guy at the club.  I passed the phase where I can walk by a mother
(late 30's -40's)/daughter (20's) and look at either one.  I have the
thought "Yes, this 22 year old girl is beautiful.  She may have great
enthusiasm but what can she bring me to the table, experience wise, that
can rival the 30-35 year old woman who has stood the test of time?  When
the sweat dries what else does she have to offer?"
    What is the test of time?  If you are 22 and you look good that's
good.  You're 22 you had better look good.  Late 30's early 40's is more
of a kick in the balls.  Around this time the bills have piled up,
you've hopefully slowed the drinking or drug consumption (because God
knows getting up in the morning after coma drinking now is a harder than
it was then), and though the bills are up there, quite possibly
something is about to be paid off.
    The pressure has increased just a little.  If you still have time to
look good ... more power to you.  You're doing better than I.  Maybe if we
just talk that last mystery will be solved for me.  Who knows?

That Beautiful Black Man

12 - Stutter Stepping

    Some days are just overwhelming.  I very rarely check my own mail.
I have it delivered and picked up because I don't have enough time in
the day to get to the post office.  The important things that must go
out are handled with the utmost care.
    I occasionally wake up early enough on a Saturday (or crawl home
late enough on a Friday) to take care of my own postal duties.  One
Saturday I was lucky enough to get to the center just in time.
    I opened the sunroof and let the gentle rays caress my newly shaved
head.  My eyes hurt too much for contacts but the overlap shades worked
just fine on my glasses.  The sun moved across the revamped center of
town like a gentle wave, stutter stepping only for the occasional cloud.
    This is the typical quaint New England town everyone knows far too
much about everyone else and is always amazed that someone knows
anything about them.  Someday I hate this area.  Other times I realize it's
the place to raise kids.  They get a good education (hopefully),  you can
sleep through the night relatively carefree, you should get out for
at least ten years, and buy property (or in some cases inherit it) when
you are established.
    I opened my mailbox and quickly leafed through the bills and junk
mail deciding what would and what wouldn't get paid that month.  Tucked
between the various papers was a small letter with paper that looked
like blue satin.  The handwriting was elegant and unfamiliar but in the
return address section was neatly written the letter T.
    I crossed the walk way to my car.  I went over my mental Rolodex of
T's that have passed through my life and cross referenced that with the
women that would still write.  The numbers were staggeringly small but the
handwriting didn't match any of them.  Some days you are never prepared
for the surprises life has to offer.
    The letter was from Tina (reference The Night).  She kept my business
card.  I only know this because she returned it with the letter.
   "Hello My Beautiful Black Man,
        This is the last letter that I write from the United States.  I
        just wanted to let you know that your memory will stay with me forever.
        I think that if we had met at some other time and the situation were different
        we may have been quite a compliment to each other's lives.
        You were the perfect person at the perfect time.  I have never
        felt so alive.  I must thank you for listening and for loving.
        I don't know how to say this gently so I'll just say it ... I
        was married two weeks ago to a man who is my soul mate that I love and
        care for deeply.  By the time you receive this letter I will be back in Vietnam
        beginning my life again.  I wanted to let you know that somehow you helped
        me make this decision and you will never be forgotten.  I will remember your
        hugs and your strength.  I will never see you again but I will stay with you
        forever; only you could see the life force dancing behind my eyes and mirror it's
        joy.  Only you.
        T"
    I sat in my car for the next two hours as the sun moved across the
revamped center of town like a gentle wave, stutter stepping only for
the occasional cloud.

11 - The Angel

    "Do you want to die? ANSWER ME!! DO YOU WANT TO DIE!?!!!"  There seemed
to be no difference between the angel and the beast.  The naked genderless
being stood before me.  There was no emotion in it's gaze.  There were no
pupils to look into.  I opened my mouth to speak and a burning sensation
began at the base of my chest.  It was too painful to be a simple cough.  I
felt as though years of filth were scraped from my lungs with each hack.
    "Is this how you want to spend your final moments on this planet?"  Each
time I opened my mouth to answer, my lungs would bark and spew the sludge
that coated their insides.
    The garbage basket near my bed was lined with plastic.  The bottom was
filled with year old newspaper.  I always prepared when I got sick but this was different.
    Over the past few weeks I had seen more people than ever pushing or
carrying O2 tanks.  I had seen various reruns of my favorite TV shows and
they all had to do with tobacco induced cancer and I didn't care.
    Once again my mouth filled with sludge and I spat into the wastebasket.
I was beginning to care.
    "What more do you need?" It's voice rumbled.  I opened my eyes to show I
wasn't afraid and was shocked to see my Mother.  She came with a vaporizer
and hot wet towels.  The towels were for me to hold over my mouth and nose
as I inhaled.  She felt the moisture in the towel combined with the heat
would loosen the phlegm in my lungs.  Good mothers are hard to find.
Cherish them for they are the greatest source of wealth you will ever have.
    "You left your front door open," she said touching my cheek.  I closed
my eyes to see the beast/angel and was surrounded by blackness.

    The breathing came easier and the coughing was less.  I thought about
the genderless, clawed being that appeared the day before.  For the most
part our perception of what angels are is limited.  We wish them to be
beautiful, saintly creatures that come to protect us and whisk away our
problems.
    If you have ever read the Bible or if any ideas have been explained to
you, you would see that angels are Gods warriors.  It was brought to my
attention that every time an angel appeared, the first words uttered were
"Do not fear me."
    I dream differently in the United States.  In Europe the dreams are of
angels standing in all of their alabaster glory carved from a wall of pure
marble surrounded by a gentle mist.  The rivers run clean and the life force
is unending.
    In the states, dreams are flashes of colors that bleed together.  Today
my dreams were interrupted by the cleansing of sludge and the undying ache
of a nicotine fit.  The life force was indeed strong but it's energy was
spread in too many directions.  My lungs burned for a cigarette.
    I stepped from the bed and reached into the breast pocket of my
pinstriped navy jacket.  I held a Turkish Gold in my hand.  I looked to the
wastebasket and saw a layer of filth.  With wobbly steps I stumbled to the
bathroom and dropped the cigarette in the toilet.
    "Do not fear me,"  I thought.  "Today begins the world anew."

10 - The Swarm

5:15 am

     She left quietly in the early morning hour.  The air was crisp and
clear.  The smoke from the Turkish Gold danced in the slight wind,
moving in gentle spirals.  I inhaled deeply and washed her out of my
mind as she drove back to her apartment.
     The Angels came to me and with them they brought the gift of
relaxation.  The light of the sun brought them to my doorstep.  Her rays
were direct and deliberate.  The day was too young for the heat to be
unbearable and the recent cold spell led one to believe that summer was
never to come.
   
     The smoke moved differently.  It had become such a part of my
nocturnal being that it was now unfamiliar.  The sun betrayed it for
what it was, an escape.  This was my way of coping without coping, a
temporary distraction to ease the mind.
   
     As I watched the smoke dance in the sunlight, I noticed it was
joined by a partner.  The little yellow and white suitors moved in
unison with the grayish tension that I released through my lungs.
It had been years since my allergies kicked up so I had no fear of
vile sneezing attacks or heavily watered eyes.  I now took time to watch
the pollen like a small child enjoying it's carefree frolicking.
   
     The Angels seemed to pass deeper into my soul as the heat from the
heavens intensified.  The sun's full glory shone as she rose,
evaporating the morning dew and removing the darkness.  Even the shadows
could hide no secrets.
   
     I watched the ballet for a moment more and then retired the smoke to
the road.

7:30 am
   
     When I stepped to my car to get another cigarette I realized the
pollen had begun to swarm.  It was no longer the casual dance partner
smoothly executing a step-ball-change, but an aggressive suitor;
jealously believing it was entitled to more of my time.
   
     The day was gradually warming.  The Angels riding sunlight had
brought the temperature to 61º F already.  The tickle in the back of my
throat as I lit my cigarette was a shock.  This was always the first
sign of a nasty allergy attack.  I tried to laugh it off and light one
of my last three tobacco sticks.
   
     The wind blew and with her came a wall of pollen.  I inhaled deeply to
get that first drag of smoke and was bombarded with a shower of yellow
invaders.  The sneezing was uncontrollable.  The cigarette fell to the
ground and the sunlight caressed my back and bald head.  I wiped the
tears from my watering eyes and made it back into the comforts of my
apartment.
   
     I filled the cats bowl to the brim, I changed her litter, and gave
her two days of fresh water.  I called my mother and my sister to let
them know the situation.  The last time I had an allergy attack that
started like this I was in Germany.  The last thing I heard before I
passed out in Germany was "Nici, he stopped breathing.  I think he's dead!"

9 - The Dance

    There are times when the machines hammer relentlessly without
reason.  It's like they believe the only solution is to grind themselves to dust
and disappear into the wind.  The patterns they hammer vary.  Sometimes
the only solace is the beginning of a new day.  The sun breaches the
horizon with a deep golden hue, seeming to burn the sky while caressing
each cloud she touches with her unlimited power.  She does this not out
of anger or malice but an all knowing unconditional understanding of
the limited knowledge the clouds possess.  It doesn't diminishes her love for
them or theirs for her.  This dance calms the machines.  It is a completely covalent
relationship based on each party meeting the others deepest needs.
    The short days of winter force the machines to realize their own selfish
nature.  They hone in on their more ionic characteristics.
The beast is released on these days.
    His sole purpose is to to silence the pain they have created, stop
the madness that they are responsible for.
    The metallic projectile is the choice of the beast.  It is pointed
and hollow like his ambition.  He knows he must act quickly for to
linger or hesitate for just even a split second would awaken the
sleeping angel.  The light of the angel is so bright that that even the
shadows rejoice.  They rejoice because they, with their blinded eyes,
understand that they are part of the greater being.
    In this moment the beast realizes that he has waited too long.  The
angel has awaken and even the loneliness is comforted with the knowledge
of it's own existence.
    The beast retreats without fear or worry.  It knows one day it will
not hesitate.

8 - The Beast Unbound

    When I was younger the beast knew no bounds.  It would dance
convincingly unfazed by the monotonous moments of life and revel in the
split seconds of war that were it's life's blood.  It has very little
regard for human life (especially mine) and it enjoyed every second that
it was released from it's cage.
    The full moon hid cautiously behind the clouds.  Stotler and I were
just on our way home from a night of remembering what life was like
before the realization of time and it's unforgiving trudge forward.
    The colon, our affectionate name for the local diner, was pretty
much empty except for a few regulars and the whispers of comfort they
provided.  The only element that was out of place was a group of
wannabee bad asses who felt it necessary to let the world know that
ignorance was not just a choice but a birthright.
    My mood that night was just below par.  I only had two cigarettes
left and no cash to buy more.  The thought of putting a pack of
cigarettes on a credit card was just a little much for me.
    As we left the five guys, none older than twenty-one ran past us.
At first I thought they were trying to catch up to a friend of theirs
but I was wrong.  They stood around this new arrival in a circle.  I
pulled out my new lighter and lit one of my last connections to sanity
as the yelling started.
    "Let's go," Stotler said stepping back up on the curb.
    "Wait a minute," I said exhaling, "I want to see just how bad this
gets."  The machines began hammering as the wolves circled the prey.
"Besides, we'd have to walk through them to get to the car anyway."
    They started pushing the new guy back and forth between them.
    "I don't care what you do,"  I yelled, " just don't touch my car."
Some members of the pack just looked over their shoulders.
    I'm 5' 6" on a good day.  The only intimidation factors I have in
my rural little area are that I'm black, I wear a heavy overcoat in
the summer, and unless the light shines on my eyes just right I look
like I have no pupils.  Seeing that I was a little guy standing with my
6' 2" friend, who weighed at the time a little over nothing, they
laughed and paid me no mind.
    The adrenaline caused the machines to power out of control.
    "Don't," Stotler said quietly.  He was always the voice of common
sense.
    The first blow hit the new guy in the back of the head while a shot
to the stomach doubled him over.
    "What the f*ck?!? That's five on one!"  I said stepping off the
curb.
    "Come one don't do this.  If you jump in then I'll have to jump in
and we'll both get our asses kicked."  He was right.  I'm not a big
fighter but the adrenaline and the machines were just beyond reason.  My
body shook as I watched this poor kid getting his ass stomped, then the
unthinkable happened.  One of the pack kicked my car as he tried to
stomp the the helpless prey.  I really didn't care that he kicked my car
but it gave the beast an excuse to pounce.
    "I told you not to kick my car," the machine screamed.  I had never
heard it's voice before.  It thundered like lightning released from the
clouds behind the moon.
    "What the f*ck is wrong with you?"  it continued.  I stared walking
to my car.  They had dragged this poor kid into the center of the
parking lot.  He had the dignity not to scream out loud.  I was too
wrapped in the thought of releasing the beast to be so inclined.
    "One simple request," the machine yelled opening the trunk. "Don't
kick my hit my f*cking car.  How difficult is that?"
    I found the red gas can and removed the cap.  As the machine led me
to the center of the parking lot one of the wolves caught me out of the
out of the corner of his eye.
    "What made you think I was kidding motherf*cker?"  I said as I
walked closer unsheathing the lighter once again.  Mindless animals who
only prey at night are usually afraid of the light.  Baptism by fire for
a thinking animal is far too much to bear for it involves not only light
but if it is done right the realization of what is wrong.
    They stood back from their intended victim.  The thought of their
own physical well-being threatened was a bit much for them.  Stotler
just looked on from the curb.  The little crew made their way to their
car and took off.  I helped the kid to his feet just as the police drove
by.
    I never found out his name.  Never wanted to.
    "You are f*cking crazy," Stotler said as I drove him home.  "You do
realize that?"
    "You want to know what makes it worse," I said laughing as the
machines slowed, "there's probably enough gas in this container to light
my last cigarette."

7 - Battle Cry

    The sun was just a little bit brighter this morning.  The machines
ran quietly allowing thoughts to flow freely through the gray matter
with uncompromising speed.  I think the worst thing about entering into
my thirties is the silence with which it approaches.  The day
simply came and went.  There was no fanfare, no great celebrations, no
overt recognition of any kind.
    I think that is one of the things I've grown to love about the
machines, they have their own moments of realization.  The fourth decade.  I
turned thirty.  I never really expected to live passed the age of
eighteen.  I remember sitting in my room as a child listening to the
grinding of the wheels and wondering if I was crazy.
    I remember realizing my own mortality around age seven.  That's when
my grand- mother left this plane of reality to travel on her own
journey.  It wasn't her death that gripped me it was the desperate look
in my father's eyes as he realized that there was nothing he could do to
undo the words that were just spoken to him by my aunt.
    The shock wave resonated through our house like an erupting volcano
and left nothing but emotional destruction in it's wake.
     I as I grew I came to believe that I couldn't die.  The reality
check came in 1992.
     I learned to quiet the machines.  The dreams of youth were too far away
to even to attempt to comprehend and the grinding, had I allowed it to
continue, would have been a constant reminder of failure.
    The road looked fine for a late winter's day and I was on my way to
shitty job number one.  I looked down at the radio for a moment and felt
the wheel catch.  The immediate response was to grip it tighter but I
was too late.  The 1978 Ford Thunderbird was already into it's second
full spin.
    When you realize you are going to die the seconds move like hours,
all that can be done is forgotten and all that will be is.  The moments
that you dread, the last seconds of your life, confront you and dare you
to defy them with your lame excuses for not living.  The angels stand
before you, not in judgment, but in waiting.
    I corrected the skid before the third spin but could not avoid the
fast approaching telephone pole.  The road at this point was thick with
ice and the brakes were useless.  I locked my arms and released a battle
cry as the nose of the the Thunderbird cut through the snow bank like
butter and slammed into the telephone.
    I don't remember getting out of the car.  I don't know how long I
stood looking through the windshield of the car trying to see if my luck
had finally run out.  I expected my last vision to be my own lifeless
body sandwiched between metal and shattered glass.
    I do remember pain, not a physical pain from the accident; something
deeper.  The machines had awakened.  All of the dreams that had been
buried rushed to the surface.  This is the day the rains began.  This is
how I began my twenties.

That Beautiful Black Man

6 - The Night (Part II)

    It is so rare when a woman takes an active interest in me.  I have
never been considered attractive.  I do not stop traffic.  Women do not
approach me for no reason and no one really goes out of their way to be
in my company; not in New England anyway.  I don't have "it" unless I
release the beast and even then loneliness lingers just beyond the
light.
    I say this because of the multitude of times I've been stood up or
laughed at or simply forgotten about.  The beast has dormant for quite
some time.  The hungry man can watch others eat for so long before his
famine drives him to hunt.
    A million volts of electricity rifled through the five story club.
Her self assured advance took me off guard.  Tina stood just within arms
reach, her long black hair danced across a sleeveless, knee length, blue
satin dress.  Her deep brown, almond shaped eyes held the power of a
life that was worth living twice.  In her small perfect hands she held a
blue margarita.
    "I don't drink,"  I said.  I wanted to jump into her soul and bathe
in the rains that poured behind her mind, "but I dance."
    She took the drink from the bar and put it in my hand.  Part of me
really wanted to know how she knew I had a weakness for kamikazees and
5' 4" petite Asian women.  Part of me really didn't care.
    "Then we dance," she teased taking my free hand and leading me onto
the dance floor.  I was intoxicated by her life force.  Jennifer Lopez
wanted a dj to Play her song in the background.  The bass thumped as
Tina writhered to the groove.  Her eyes were drunk with anticipation and
her lips were filled with laughter.  I was overtaken by the hunger as
our mouths became one.
    "It's my birthday," she whispered in my ear.
    "Happy Birthday,"  I answered kissing her cheek gently.  "What can I
do to make this the best birthday you've ever had?"
    "I love black men," she replied as she held me closer.  There was no
pretense.  No subtle innuendo.  She was on a mission.  The machine
hammered relentlessly.
    On any other day I may have walked away.  I've worked to hard to
just be classified as a piece of dark flesh.  The same physical trait
that had branded me a pariah in some circles brought me into the arms of
one of the most alive women I had ever met.  On any other day I may have
walked away but tonight ... tonight belonged to the beast.
    "Well, T, I think I got just the thing for you."

5 - The Night (Part I)

    Do not fear me.  I am the wing-ed angel that comes into your
nightmare to slay the beast.  Do not underestimate me for if the moment
calls I am the beast that will not die. - JMFB

    The phone rang quietly as I pulled the thin black sweater over my
head.  Black.  It was my power color.  Tonight was a night for the
angels to rest while the machine ran wild, grinding and hammering away,
it's only limitations were the limitations of the physical body it
inhabited.
    She was crying.  He had left her alone to go drink and blow lines
with his friends.  A few days had come and gone and she felt her
life was perfect.  I knew because the phone had remained silent.  I was
in no mood to play the emotional tampon tonight.  Tonight was the night
of the beast.
    The machine needed to be satisfied.  I thought of how beautiful the
day had been.  The sun crawled through the sky as though it were on a
mission to right the wrongs of the overlong winter.  I enjoyed it's
warmth, soaked in it's energy, and bled the poison of selfish cold out
of my system.
    A new void was created.  The machine hammered away as it ran out
of memories to slow its grinding.  I craved something to halt it's
relentless advance.
    The music pulsated in the five story club.  Everywhere I looked
there were bodies dancing almost trance like to the monotonous thumping
of the electronic bass drum.  The lyrics of the songs were unimportant.
They all said the same thing, "Take away the pain, lose yourself in my
all consuming groove.  I will create a rhythm that you are lacking in
life."
    The sensory overload was exactly what I needed.  If I were to flood
my system with alcohol or the ever present ecstasy the dull haze
would have taken me from my single purpose; to get lost in an
artificial world that I was totally in control of.
    As I lit my fourth cigarette the bartender set a drink in front of
me.
    "Woman at the end of the bar," he said motioning with a with wipe
cloth, "She was really checking you out, brotha."  I looked and saw a
five girls that were no older than twenty-one.  They were all pretty but
none of them were looking in my direction.
    "Which one, man?"  I asked trying to figure if it was worth the trip
through the crowd.
    "She's not there now.  Pretty little redbone, I think.  Either that
or she's Spanish.  I don't know."
    "She fine?" I asked loudly blowing the smoke on the bar.
    I felt a tap on my shoulder.  The machine ground to a halt.  Her
eyes danced with the light.  Pulsating just behind the music I saw the
life force dancing wildly.
    "My name is Tina.  I hope you like Kamikazes."

    Do not fear me.  I am the beast.  Tonight the angels sleep for their
rest is well deserved.  Tonight is mine for the taking and I will be
served.

4 - Broken

    The first time she came to me her spirit had been broken.  She
looked to me to heal all of her wounds.  Her self validation stemmed
from the physical.  She unknowingly fed from the life force and was
satiated with the small amounts she drew.
    The mirrors in her home cried as they struggled to piece together
the shattered image that looked to them for comfort.  She came to
make what she called love, to feel warm hands, to be caressed and then
to disappear like the hours across the time zones, expanding in distance
not substance.
    Once I asked her to stay.  "If I stayed," she said, " it would
ruin what we have."  It was then I knew she would never see "it".  I
shut down after that.
    I always wondered why she was drawn to substandard emotional
relationships.  In the time I knew her she had moved from scum bag to
scum bag always crying to me when they stole money, wrecked her car, or
couldn't make their share of the rent.
    As I grew colder her affection for me grew.  She had gotten herself
into a vicious cycle and I was caught in the eye of the storm.  I picked
up the phone to call her but thought better of it.  Any sign of warmth
on my part and she would run.  She wanted all I had to offer but she
didn't want it from me.
    The dreams from the previous night were like bad sex, short and
uneventful.  I slept until the mid afternoon.  Today was the day to
conserve energy for this night was my night to live.

That Beautiful Black Man

3 - Insomnia

    I spent most of the night laying in bed trying to quite the
machines.  The rains had slowed to a slight mist and the nocturnal
unconsciousness that I had cherished at one point in my life was
beginning to take hold.  Even though the warm spring weather was
consuming the the long winter nights the bed still felt cold.  The chill
of the sheets was beginning to choke me.
    Unable to sleep, I staggered from the bed down the stairs to the
living room.  My calico companion meowed quietly from my beaten white
sofa.  This late night wandering had become common place to her.  Pets,
if you allow them to become a part of you, grow to recognize your moods
and they offer certain remedies that even the best of friends can't
offer.  She rolled on to her back and stretched her paws out as if to
say "This is all you have to do, relax the body and the mind will
follow."  I sat in my backless relaxation chair hoping it was true.
    I had just picked up the phone when I heard a gentle knock on the
door that connects my apartment to the one occupied by the rest of my
family.  My sister walked through the kitchen to the living room.
    "Are you checking your money again?" she asked flopping down on the
sofa next to my cat.  "You know if you stopped spending like you were
rich you might be able to fix this place up."
    I slowly put the receiver down and stared passed the blank computer
screen.  I wanted a cigarette but refused to smoke in the house.  As
much as the initial act calmed my nerves and put a dull edge on the
grinding machines, the stale after smell was too much to stomach.
    My cat purred loudly as my sister scratched the back of her neck.
    "Couldn't sleep, huh?"
    "I'm fine," I said exhaling deeply.  The machines slowed
considerably.  My sister couldn't see the storms that constantly brewed but she understood them.
    "You should talk to someone," she said, surprisingly serious.  "You
do this every year.  It's like you shut down.   Your whole demeanor
changes."
    I wondered if I should tell her about the machines.  I had a feeling
that she already knew.  She could see "it" as well but her approach to
life was much more practical than mine.
    "I know.  I think it's because I haven't written anything in a
while.  I can't seem to put two words together for a song or a story;
nothing.  I need a vacation."  It's amazing the stories you're able to
tell the ones closest to you.
    "Europe, again?"
    "Maybe.  That's why I was checking the cash flow.  Looking to see if
I could swing it."
    "Well I think you should fix this place up first.  If I had this
place it would be the bomb.  I would get rid of all of this sh*t, do the
walls, do the floors, and hook this mug up."
    "You know how much I hate change."
    "Only you," she said shaking her head.  Those two words kept
appearing, dancing, teasing, leading to a personal interpretation that
could only be set by my state of mind.
    The calico kitty quietly meowed as my sister left.  Her presence was always
a comfort.  The ever present grinding was reduced to a manageable hum.
    I stepped outside to have a cigarette and the let smoke dance in the
wind.  I needed to sleep but I knew once the mind reached it's
unconscious state I would have no control.  Would the rains flood the
uncertain landscape?  Would the life force flicker and finally falter?
Or would the machine finally grind itself to pieces, sending shrapnel
through the fragile remains of my mind.

04/06/2001

2 - The Smoke

    "That's all she said?  Only you?"  Stotler asked.  He clasped his
hands over his beer and stared at the bottles behind the bar.
    I watched the smoke rise from my slow burning cigarette.  It
traveled the length of the cancer stick and then rose into the air just
before it reached the filter line, as if reaching the end would be too
much for it to bear.  I took another deep drag and blew it at the
bottles behind the bar.
    "That's it.  I did notice that she couldn't bring herself to touch
me, though."  The smoke hung in layers.
    "You do realize this girls loves you."  He wedding ring was now
brightly reflecting the dull light.  Every conversation we had now
revolved around my time to settle down.  The thought almost made my skin
crawl.  I had come close to settling down once but f*cked it up, as do
most men in their early twenties.
    "Look, man, I didn't come down to talk about my none existent
relationship status.  I came down to watch you drink that poison and to
stare at these cute waitresses."
    I really wanted to get away from the grinding of my mind.  I hadn't
been able to shut the machines off since she and I stood on the beach.
Realization and resolution are two completely different species.  I felt
like I was regressing.
    "Besides," I continued, "She didn't see it."
    "It?" he said puzzled at first.  "What do you mean ... oh ... that
f*ckin' rain forest sh*t you're always telling me about?"
    I closed my eyes took another slow, deep drag.  The smoke released
easily from my lungs and cascaded from the bar to the well below.  The
bottles remained the same but the colors changed slightly with the
light.  The realization was still sinking in.
    "Yes, it.  When you met your wife you knew right away that she was
'the one' right?  You were ready.  Your mind set was such that you could
give yourself to another person correct?"
    "Yes on both points."
    "Well I'm not ready.  I don't want to be ready.  The vision is too
clear."
    "I think you're just being selfish."  He took another swig of his
beer.  He stretched his arms to the bar and slowly turned from side to
side, cracking his back.  " I have to get home," he said reaching far
above his head.  "Long day tomorrow.  Think about what I said.  This
girl could be good for you."
    "She doesn't see it."
    "Most of us don't.  She's right about one thing; only you see some
of the crazy shit you see."
    As he left I watched the smoke caress the ever changing bottles
behind the bar.  As I left I fought with sounds of the machines in my
head.

04/04/01

1 - Only You

    "Only you," she said.  Her words were simple and deliberate.  I looked deep
into the sky.
    "If you focus your mind," I started, "you can see beyond the stars and
stare into the face of time.  How can I explain that to you?  Every time I try to
comprehend it myself I get lost and the light of the sun blurs my vision."
    She gazed just above my left shoulder and then looked into my eyes to see what I saw.
    "No," I said gently.  "Don't try to comprehend it, let it come to
naturally."   Her eyes were like deserts thirsting for the first drop of
rain to begin the cycle of life.
    I had no words to soothe her.  There was no explanation to offer.  She always brought
me to this place as though I could unleash the power of nature and bring forth the life
force that existed behind her eyes, trapped just beneath the surface.
    "Only you tell me about the beauty you see in this void," she confessed.
    "I tell you nothing," I snapped.  "It's all there.  It calls to me.
The sound is deafening.  It rumbles like a million machines crashing
together, each struggling to avoid the splintered shrapnel of the other.  I come here
because you bring me and you stand by my side to absorb the screaming.  If I were to
stand here alone I would go mad."
    "I don't think that's true."
    "You won't allow yourself to see truth."  My tone was less harsh this time.
    I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply to let her move closer and look beneath the
surface.  As she drank in the view I could I could feel her almost reaching out to me
then catching herself.  In my mind the rains fell constantly, reinventing the landscape,
nourishing the life force, and reinvigorating my perspective.
    "Why are you so lost?" I thought to myself.
    "Thank you," she said in a voice that registered just above a whisper. Her
eyes were wet with tears.  "Only you."


04/02/01